Damn Yankees

Baseball has always been one of my favorite things about summer. Not playing it, of course - I am the least athletic person on the planet. But watching baseball has been a family tradition my whole life, from Spring Training games in sunny South Florida to watching the Gators go to the College World Series. While I love the optimism of opening day and the stress of the postseason, there is nothing quite like baseball in the summer. It's early enough that everyone still has a chance, but late enough that the competition is starting to get to people. It's hot as Hades outside, and yet you want nothing more than to snuggle up with 50,000 of your closest friends and scream your lungs out. It is a beautiful thing.

And now it's honesty hour. While I aspire to become a true New Yorker, there is one thing I absolutely refuse to compromise on. I moved around a lot as a kid, and there are only two places we ever really went back to: Disney World (more on that later) and Scituate, Massachussetts. That's right. Deep down, I am nothing but a Masshole. And six months out of every year, my Southie side consumes my South Shore side. You see, I tend to pick fights with people who root for the Evil Empire. I can't help it. I was born into Red Sox Nation.

Fenway, 1994. You know you're jealous of my sweet hat & horrible teeth.

Fenway, 15 years later.

So naturally, I had to accept when I was asked last minute if I wanted to attend a Sox-Yankees game in The New Yankees Stadium (read that name as though you are an announcer and something big has happened, like "This is the first home run in The New Yankees Stadium!" or "It's the first fat guy to spill a beer on himself on the jumbotron in The New Yankees Stadium!"). I made a promise to myself: I would wear colors, but no logos. I would speak only if spoken to. And I would hide between the two taller, male Sox fans who would be accompanying our group. I would be the classiest Red Sox fan the Yankees had ever met, gracious to my hosts and a kind winner. And I would be a winner. Because the Red Sox were going to kick some pinstriped ass.

And they did. They swept the Yankees, part of a nine-game winning streak that ended with a loss to the Rays last night. And I'm happy to say that no one said an unkind word to me. As a whole, Yankees fans were nice to me... I mean no one talked to me, but you know what they say, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Nice work, Yankees fans. You were good sports. And your stadium served really good chicken fingers (trust me, I KNOW chicken fingers).

Now, I lived in Rays territory for approximately four years; during two of those years, the Rays actually had fans. Oh no she didn't! Pick up your face, girl. You know if you're from Florida with very few exceptions (Hi Haticses!) you have rooted for a team other than your hometown for the majority of your life - because for the majority of your life, your team either did not exist or was completely awful. If you are from Tampa, until approximately 2008, you rooted for the Yankees. If you are one of the few loyal, nonbandwagon fans, I do not need to apologize to you, because I am not talking to you; otherwise, I will not apologize to you. You know what you are.

Anyway. I lived in Rays territory for approximately four years, and I have lived in New York City for approximately one. During my time here, I have worn my Fenway shirt and walked safely through the streets. I have openly cheered for the Sox/against the Yankees in bars and had people quietly accept it (in fact, once I got a free drink). I have been to a game featuring two of the biggest rivals in all of sports history, in enemy territory, and emerged completely unscathed. Meanwhile, in Florida, I got crap on a daily basis for being a Red Sox fan. This is not an attack on the Rays - I'm talking Cubs fans, Marlins fans, fans of all shapes and sizes. So why the heck are New Yorkers so docile? Is it because so many of us are from so many places? Or is there something else going on here?

I love to fight about baseball as much as the next person. But I, like most of the sensible, rational fans I've met up here (Hi Dana!), will admit when a player is good and when a fan knows his or her stuff. Of course I love my team, but, more importantly, I love the game. All I'm saying is, you gotta get both sides down pat - know when to stick your neck out, and know when to back down. Realize that maybe walking up to people in baseball caps and yelling at them is not exactly the way to make friends. And, as a bonus, you should probably memorize the entire active roster of your team, because at some point, someone is going to ask you who plays a certain position, you are going to blank because he's only been playing for your team for a year, and you will then lose all credibility as a fan. Definitely not speaking from experience.

So thank you, New York Yankees. Your fans might not be that bad after all (except for those involved in the two fights that resulted in ejections - those guys suck). That being said, I look forward to continuing to watch my boys sweep yours for the rest of the season and/or my lifetime. Speaking of which, shout out to my favorite Yankees fan, my brother-in-law, who is celebrating his birthday today. Happy Birthday Dave! I made this out of cardboard and glitter just for you.